Lights And Locks
by Nomi's Secret
Summary: When Sam left his father and brother on that highway to go to college a few months ago, he had no idea how quickly the hunting world would suck him back in. While walking home from work he hears a woman scream, can he, will he save her?
1. Chapter One

**Lights and Locks**

_**Summary-When Sam left his father and brother on that highway to go to college a few months ago, he had no idea how quickly the hunting world would suck him back in. While walking home from work he hears a woman scream, can he, will he save her? **_

_**A/N- This is a Sammy centred fic dedicated to NikNakz93 as we were supposed to be doing a one shot prompt but it evolved into a fully fledged fic! The prompts she gave were: Broken Lightbulbs and Locks. **_

_**Disclaimer- I do not own any Supernatural concept so please do not sue me.**_

_And so I tell myself that I'll be strong  
>And dreaming when they're gone<em>

_'Cause they're calling, calling, calling me home_  
><em>Calling, calling, calling home<em>

Ellie Goulding- Lights

_**Chapter one**_

The tall, broad shouldered man walked down the empty street with a brown paper bag in his hand. The chef had kindly allowed him to take the leftovers at the end of the night from the high end restaurant he was working in. The bag was full with fine cuts of meat and steamed vegetables that would serve as his dinner, super and breakfast by the time he got back to his room. It felt heavy as he clutched at the folded paper at the top of the bag as he glanced up and down the road before crossing it.

He kept throwing careful glances over his shoulder half expecting to hear the familiar sound of a car engine with people in it who he had abandoned only a few months ago. He pulled at his sweater anxiously. The memories were still too fresh for him to deal with.

_-LAL-_

"Dad, we need to talk," the words left his mouth dryly. He shook a little with nerves in the backseat.

In the front were his Dad, John, and his older brother, Dean. His brother glanced at him with pursed lips. He knew what he was thinking. They never had good talks. One always got angry and the other stalked off while Dean was left to pick up the pieces every damn time.

John looked at his son through the rear view mirror. His was showing his age now. Every day of his forty eight years was etched into his face. His brown hair was speckled with grey as was his stubble. Those dark eyes were looking kindly at his youngest child as he said, "Yeah, Sammy, talk about what?"

Dean glanced between them before his eyes rested on Sam. The look he gave his older brother was as clear as a vampire caught in daylight.

"Umm, maybe you guys can talk later, yeah?" he started watching the two men warily. Dean knew that whatever Sam wanted to talk about was going to set everything off again. They'd just calmed down from the last fight. He didn't want to be stuck in the car while they shouted, fought and sulked. "Like when we find a motel?"

"No," Sam resigned with a sigh. He took a deep breath and thought about the words he was about to say to the person he wanted to get away from most, "Dad, Dean, I got accepted at Stanford. I'm going to college."

At first the eldest man didn't say anything. He couldn't say anything. He had been caught off guard by his son's revelation and it took several minutes for it to sink in. He continued to drive not really seeing where they were going. Anger began to set in. Betrayal bit at his throat like a rabid dog.

"Crap," Dean whispered to himself as he saw his father's knuckles turning white as they clutched at the steering wheel. He took them over onto a safe part to pull over.

Sam's eyes flared at the sudden change of course. He rallied himself ready to defend his corner. For eighteen damn years he had been following orders and doing what Dad said because he had to. Now, that was going to change. He wasn't going to be ruled over any longer.

The car shuddered to a halt and John kept hold of the steering wheel as he spoke through a tightly clutched jaw, "What do you mean you're going to college?"

"I mean...I'm going to Stanford in September. And you're not going to stop me." He sat up a little straighter. He felt anger growing up inside him now. How dare he question his decisions!

"So what, you're going to leave me and your brother to find and kill whatever killed your mother while you're partying?"

"What? No. Dad, I'm going to Stanford to get out of this life! It's hell for me! I want to be able to get a steady job, get a mortgage and get married one day and have kids. I can't do that if I ride around with you killing evil crap that isn't our problem!"

"Your Mom was killed by one of them!" he roared and kicked open the door. While he climbed out of the car he hissed over his shoulder, "That makes it our problem!"

Dean's mouth flapped hopelessly as he watched their Dad stalk off down the side of the road. He glanced at the man four years his junior. Sam could see that he'd broken his heart but Dean wouldn't stop him doing what he wanted. Sam started to get out of the car. He wanted to carry the argument even further.

"Sammy!" Dean shouted to his brother hoping for him just to get back into the car. He didn't listen and started off towards John. He got out of the car and followed them, "Ugh..."

"Dad, I don't care what you think or feel about it," Sam growled at the man causing him to turn around and face him. The sun was setting casting long shadows across the road underneath the purple sky, "I'm going and I'm happy about it! To get out of this damn life and to not worry if I'll be alive in a couple of weeks, it feels like heaven!"

"You can't leave this life, Sammy. Once you're in, you're in for life. You can't just walk away from it. It doesn't work like that."

"Who's fault was it that me and Dean were dragged into it?" he scoffed, "oh yeah, yours."

A car or two passed them as they continued to argue. They were in a secluded part of the freeway that passed between farmers fields in the centre of Nebraska.

"I didn't have a choice!" John screamed. He seethed, "if I had the chance then I would've given you boys the best childhood the world had to offer. But I didn't. I had to keep you safe."

"You should be glad I'm leaving then! I'll be safe at Stanford. I won't have to hunt or deal with every evil thing that I see! I'll be just another college kid."

"You won't be safe!" tears pricked at his eyes, "You're still a _kid_."

"I'm eighteen!" Sam roared, "Stop treating me like I'm four years old!"

The old man had finally had it. He snapped and growled dangerous words, "if you walk away from us, don't bother coming back."

Dean's mouth dropped and he thought desperately of a way to make them reconcile.

Sam felt bitter tears leaking from his eyes, "Fine!"

_-LAL-_

Another round of angry tears bit at him as he took a short cut through a dimly lit side street. Sam knew that he shouldn't walk down the side streets because of the danger involved but he was more than certain that he could handle himself against anything that the world could throw at him.

After he'd packed up the small lot of stuff he owned he'd made his way to the nearest bus station and bought a ticket that'd take him all the way to Stanford. As soon as he'd gotten there, three and a half months ago, he'd taken up residence at a hostel until the dorms were opened. He'd scoured for a job and after several rejections he'd finally found one as a bus boy.

The money was crap, his hands looked worse than when he'd been hunting and he was stuck in a hot, stuffy kitchen five nights a week but it was a job. It gave him money for school and books and food.

His feet clicked down the sidewalk in a steady rhythm. He was still wearing his smart uniform with his brown sweater thrown over the top. Walking home at two in the morning in the middle of October was damn cold. His breath came out in small clouds that hovered in front of his face for a while.

Sam was passing rows of derelict buildings. The buildings were barely lit by the scattered street lamps. They dated from when a fire had destroyed that area of town about seventy years ago. The buildings were all made of a red brick. The colour reminded him of blood. The fixtures were all wooden. Doors and windows were boarded up. Some had metal bars on the outside to stop people going in and stealing whatever may have been left behind. There were burglar alarms on a couple of them. Only one or two that he'd seen were in active use. The rest were just boxes that were put there to put people off. There were no wires going to or from the boxes. On almost all of the buildings there were retail signs. Some were to let, others to buy and one or two had a sold sign stabled to the doors.

He rounded the corner knowing that he was only ten minutes from his bed and the few hours sleep that he needed to function. He shook his head as a sudden breeze caused his hair to fall into his eyes. He took a deep sigh, breathing in the cold night air as he picked up the pace. He walked faster, his long legs extended further until he was almost flying down the street.

A scream cut through the chilled air. Sam stopped dead and he glanced up and down the street trying to pinpoint the location it had come from. Had he imagined it?

There was another scream that carried a sob with it. He definitely hadn't imagined that one. It had been a woman screaming and sobbing in terror. He pursed his lips and glanced around again. She was nearby.

She let out a blood curdling wail. Sam faced the opposite side of the street. It had come from one of the old houses but which one? He stalked over to that side of the road now cursing at his shoes as they clicked when they met the tarmac. The scream had come from his left so he followed the row of large houses down that way.

It wasn't long before he'd found the right house. It was made out of the same blood brick as the others. This house had no alarm or bars on the windows. Only the windows on the ground floor were boarded up to prevent them being smashed. The door was the most peculiar thing. It was wooden and there were several bolts on it to keep people out. He gulped when he saw that every one of them had been picked at. The door was leaning in a little.

Sam nudged it with his foot and it swung inwards. It revealed a dark hallway with pealing wallpaper and a set of unstable stairs. The only light was that which was shining in behind him from the orange streetlight.

He heard the woman sob, "No, please! Leave me alone! Help!"

He had no idea what he'd find in the house. He'd thought he was done from hunting when he'd walked away but he couldn't just leave someone to die, could he? For the sake of his own precious little life?

No, he couldn't.

He set his jaw hard and entered the house pushing past the door and any selfish thoughts that he'd had. He was the only person who could help this woman.


	2. Chapter Two

_**A/N-**_** Thank you for the favourites, alerts and reviews. **

_**Chapter Two**_

He started walking slowly down the dark corridor. His senses and instincts told him to keep any noises he made as low as possible. He pressed forward relentlessly. The maroon wallpaper was peeling to reveal the alabaster plaster beneath. There were odd cabinets and umbrella stands scattered around. He passed a white door.

He nudged it with his foot and he saw that the room beyond was intended to be a lounge or reception room. Within the room there were various materials needed to start renovating a place like this. There was a wallpaper stripper, bags of plaster powder and rolls of carpet and underlay that was ready to be put down. Sam pursed his lips. There wasn't any sign of disturbance down there.

The woman whimpered. The sound came from upstairs somewhere. He also heard the low growls and groans of a man. Sam returned to the corridor and looked around for anything that he could use as a weapon. Back by the door there was an iron crow bar resting against some small crates that probably held some precious and expensive family heirlooms or vases. He grabbed it and left his supper on top of the crate.

Sam turned on his heel and advanced down the corridor. He approached the stairs hesitantly. If there was something that Dad did good, it was teaching him that if you rushed head first into a hunt then you'd end up dead. Something underneath his feet cracked and broke. He glanced down and moved his left foot out of the way. He saw that underneath his leather shoes were small fragments of glass. He saw light reflecting off a filament nearby and realised that the glass fragments belonged to a light bulb. His head looked up at the ceiling and he saw a light fitting that should have three bulbs sitting in it. He knew these were the ones on the floor.

He began to wonder if it was something other than human that was going after this woman. He wondered what the hell could actually break light bulbs though. They had exploded from the inside and not smashed by a vicious swing of an arm or bat. His grip on the crow bar tightened and he advanced to the stairs yet again.

He felt out with his foot when he reached them. The first step was stable enough. He didn't want it to creak or break underneath his weight. He stepped slowly but with determination as he reached higher. His hazel eyes kept sweeping the small piece of corridor that he could see. He didn't know where the woman was or what was after her. He couldn't afford to take any chances.

A piece of wallpaper peeled off the wall as he walked past. Sam gave it a wary glance. It hissed as it came away from the wall and began to curl up on itself. His foot hit the next step. He was almost at the top now. The wood moved and creaked. He stopped immediately and gulped.

There was a moan. He held his breath and he heard the man move away from the stop of the stairs to another area of the first floor. He relaxed and carried on further. He poked his head around to the right to check that nothing was there. His head snapped to the left and made sure that there was nothing on that side of him either.

The floor was bare and showing the floorboards. The walls up here were almost all stripped. Pieces of plaster were on the floor and great holes were in the wall from where they had fallen from. He stepped out.

There was a white door to his right that was open slightly. He held the crow bar ready to attack if anything were to run out at him. He reached out with his spare hand and opened the door further. It made a small noise as it swung open.

Sam cursed mentally and he held still. Luckily, there was no moan or groan that sounded. Whatever was here hadn't heard him. He let out a soft sigh as he entered the room. It was at the front of the house. The boarded up window should've looked out into the street below. The room was empty apart from one battered chest of drawers against the far wall. His eyes swept over the dark room quickly and he turned to leave. He spied out from behind the door to make sure that nothing was waiting for him.

When he was satisfied he stalked out and moved onto the next room. It was on the left but the door was closed. He stepped over the floorboards carefully not wanting to risk exposing himself anymore. He leaned against the door while keeping an eye out for any movement. He turned the brass door handle and pushed in. This door opened soundlessly. The room was darker than the last. He saw that there were just a few cardboard boxes and plastic, black bags. There was no movement in the room or any sound.

With a worrying gulp he closed the door and looked back into the corridor. He spotted another white door on the opposite wall. He heard a shuffling coming from inside but it stopped as he took a step towards it. There was a groan from the bedroom at the end of the corridor.

Sam walked quickly but quietly over to the door and opened it. There was a shocked gasp from the poor soul inside. The door wouldn't open all the way. He spotted a white sneaker jammed up against it. His eyes saw that there was a pair of dark denim jeans attached to the sneaker. He noted that he's found the woman. She was sticking to the shadows and he heard her sniffle for a moment. Her feet were pressed against the other side of the door stopping him from opening it.

He whispered to her, "I heard you scream. I'm not going to hurt you. We have to get out of here right now."

There was another moan from the other end of the corridor. His head whipped around to see the door begin to open. The man growled. Sam turned back to the corridor.

"I can't go out, he's there!" she hissed at him.

He gulped. "Look, we have to go, _now_."

When Sam looked around again while she began to rearrange herself so that she could leave the closet, he saw that the white door was open but there was no sign of the man who had made the vicious moans and groans.

"Hurry up!" he urged her while throwing cautious glances back to the room. He was still holding onto the handle and gently pushing in.

Suddenly, the handle flew out of his hand and the door slammed shut. The woman screamed and began to sob.

"Don't leave me, please."

Sam stepped back with wide eyes. He breathed through his mouth. The air around him got colder and his hairs stood on end. He began to shiver and his teeth started to chatter. The air that he breathed out appeared in small clouds in front of his face. He felt something breathing down his neck. It felt cold and clammy.

He turned and saw a pale man staring back at him. He was the same height as Sam. His clothes were drenched in water. Droplets began to fall from his long coat onto the floor. He was wearing a tartan flat cap. It covered his thinning hair. Underneath his coat he was wearing a white shirt and dark trousers that were held up by a set of braces. He was wearing smart, leather shoes. His skin was translucent and almost green in colour. He sighed angrily and his arm reached out. He grabbed Sam by the throat and threw him down the corridor.

He hit the wall with a deafening crack. He sank to the floor and the loose plaster fell on top of him. He groaned lightly before looking up. He saw the spirit going to the door of the closet. His hand turned on the handle.

"No! Leave me alone!" she screamed from the inside as the door rattled heavily.

Sam picked himself up. He'd dropped his crowbar when he'd been thrown. It was lying at the feet of the man and he tried again to get into the small room and at the woman. Sam's shoulder cracked as he ran at the spirit. They collided hard. The spirit snarled angrily and staggered backwards for a few moments. He stopped himself and picked up the crowbar in his left hand. He clutched it in both of his hands. The spirit took a few steps towards him ready to attack and Sam swung for him.

Spirit flesh connected with iron and he disappeared in front of his eyes. Sam continued to hold the crowbar steady in one hand while he opened the door to the closet. There was a small resistance as the woman was still pressed against the door. She stood back and stared at him with wide eyes. She clutched at her right arm. He couldn't see much so he grasped at where her hand would be and proceeded to pull her out of the closet. She followed him obediently as he led her down the stairs.

Their feet moved quickly down the steps and soon they could see the street up ahead. The door was still open and they broke into a run as they tried to reach it. He kept his head down and kept running. There was a terrified gasp from the woman behind him. He glanced up and saw the spirit stood in front of the door menacingly.

They staggered to a halt and she almost fell into him. She knocked against him. He could feel her shaking and sobbing behind him. He warned her to stay behind him in a low voice. He heard her mumble something but it was too quiet for him to hear.

The spirit stalked towards them. There was a nasty grin sat on its face as it crept closer. The woman whimpered and Sam swung out with the crowbar in front of him. He was trying to scare the spirit and to make it think twice of attacking them. It continued to advance.

Sam set his jaw and took a few steps forwards. They were still holding hands so she staggered forwards as well. She became quiet but her hand continued to shake. He gave it a tight squeeze trying to comfort her. The spirit took another step and Sam let the crowbar drop to his side. It took another and another step until it was only an arm's length away.

Sam took a deep breath and waited for it to take another step. It did. He gripped hard on the crowbar and swung out. His arm moved from right to left. He felt a momentary resistance as he hit it. The spirit vanished with a hiss. He gripped hard on her hand and ran forward again. It was only a couple of metres to the door.

They fell out into the street. The woman raised her hand to her mouth and began to sob. He dropped the crowbar and stared in at the house. It looked that the hunting world really did want him back.


End file.
